Halcyon blinked. “Maybe.”

Marina shook her head. “Where’s the dress? And it better not have a corset or even a full-length zipper or I’m dragging out slacks and a silk blouse.”

Halcyon pulled the cover off the dress and showed it to Marina. It was basic black, straight line, and sleeveless. The top plunged down a bit low for Marina’s usual style but it was dressier wear and this situation was hardly usual. Unfortunately, the length would leave it looking like a pilgrim costume on Marina.

Halcyon saw her assessing the bottom and shoved the dress at her. “Put it on. I’ll take care of the length.”

“You don’t sew.”

“I have a plan.”

Marina pulled on a bra and underwear—to hell with panty lines—then pulled the dress over her head. Halcyon took care of the small zipper on the back and Marina studied herself in the mirror. Except for the length, it wasn’t bad. Halcyon knew how to pick a cut that was flattering for a little more baggage. It probably would have looked even better with the hair band, but Marina was happy with her overall appearance.

“That bra is great,” Halcyon said. “Really pushes the girls up into the neckline. Don’t wear a necklace. Highlight your assets. Between the awesome chest, your younger-looking face, and your hair, which I swear has grown another inch, you’ll be the talk of the party.”

“I have a feeling I would be the talk of the party even if I wasn’t attending.”

Halcyon pulled duct tape out of her bag and sat on the floor. “Okay, hold still for a second. I want to mark the length.”

“You’re going to hem the dress with duct tape?”

“It works great. Half of my skirts have duct tape on them. I need to get them in for repair but never remember until I want to wear them. Anyway, I’ll tape it up and iron it on the hem. This plan has the added advantage of allowing me to let it out and still wear the dress. If this was permanent, I’d be arrested for wearing it at this length.”

It seemed a little short even for Marina, but she wasn’t about to argue with Halcyon. When her sister went to finish taping and press the hem, Marina touched up her makeup and hair, which had gotten a little tousled in the Great Hair Band Struggle of the Twenty-First Century. By the time she’d sprayed and tweaked everything she thought could use improvement, Halcyon was ready with the dress. She slipped it over her head, careful not to touch her hair or face, and Halcyon zipped her up. When she looked down and saw the amount of thigh exposed, the automatic desire to tug it down coursed through her. But before she could take action, Halcyon sighed and put her hands over her heart.

“You look so gorgeous,” her sister said. “Oh my God, Marina. You’re so beautiful. You always have been but just look. Let me grab my phone. I’ve got to get a picture.”